The Story About You
by feisu-chan
Summary: Time had moved on, but suddenly stopped for them to get their stagnant lives back in motion - back to how they should have been when they were young years and years back. But would they let time have its way? Or would they opt for the other way around?
1. Hajime

**The Story about You

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**

The story started ages and ages past their flourishing youth.

It was winter, and the snow was deep. Her house was white and the trees were bare. She stood by the stove waiting for her hot water for tea, empty cup already in her hand. The fireplace had been lit up hours ago, but the room still froze with the wintry wind outside.

It had been years and years since her youth. And she was all alone. Her friends had gone either dead or moved away like she did. Her mentors now old and senile, one unable to recognize her pink hair and sad beautiful smile. He would just look at her and would suddenly giggle like a child, and then he would say, "Iyaaa! Look at that! You look like spring."

Sometimes, when he said that each time he saw her, she would just smile and convince herself that somewhere inside him, he still remembered her, like the way he remembered spring. After all, she was the princess of spring.

There was a time when he blurted out something that went, "You almost looked like a mother, but when I look at you, you reminded me of that little girl. I don't remember her name, but I think she was my daughter? Do I have a daughter, Haruno-san?"

He never did have a child, nor did he settle down to marry. But somehow, she knew he really did remember her. And she hugged him tight and cried to him, like the little girl she had been.

Her best friend, her brother, had long been dead. Ten years. He died in honor. He saved the village in exchange for his life, like what all other Hokage gallantly did before him. She was stricken with grief while she healed him during his last moments. But he died with sheer happiness, and he whispered with his last breath that he would do it a million times over just for the beloved village.

Of course, in his last moments, he talked to her. Wished for her happiness that had been lost for years and years before. He said he knew that one day, she'd find it again, wear her most beautiful smile again; something he had failed to do for her, he added.

Tsunade-shishou had been dead, too. Of old age. And she was so much lovelier in her true form for she had aged so gracefully, it was envying. Shizune-senpai was somewhere travelling the Shinobi World to teach the medic arts; she had asked her to come but she chose to be left behind. Her colleagues had been reduced to half, as half of them died in missions or battles and their names were added to the Memorial Rock she would visit once a week.

It had been tough. And it was tougher when she decided to move out of the village. She had to do it for herself, just so she wouldn't peg herself in the past where life had been smooth. She needed time, and needed space, and needed to do something for herself to move on.

Hence, the little cottage at the outskirts of a new town was purchased. She had grown herbs and greens around it, and built a swing on one of the trees. In spring, lilacs and daisies filled the grass spread out in her garden. But there were no cherry blossoms around, and she said it was all the more better. In summer, the heat was lowered down by the breeze and the willows and gingkoes rustled with the rain. In fall, everything was russet and the trees were bare, and she would love to sit by the tree and read a book while the leaves would die and fall upon her. In winter, everything was gloomy. It was cold as it was white, and the snow never stopped, and it was sad because her coat could never keep her warm.

But everything went fine. She was fine, had been for the first time since everything was still complete. She became the town's medic, and every now and then, she would have apprentices for the town hospital. Once in a while, she would go back to Konohagakure and bring Kaka-sensei miso soup with eggplant, eat at Ichiraku Ramen and order three extra bowls she would never touch, stare at the Hokage Mountain where two faces would always, always pierce her heart with longing. And before leaving, she would kill herself anew and travel the long forgotten paths of town that led her to the derelict compound where the once-prestigious clan lived. She would always offer a candle by the doorstep of his home for all the sorrow and rue and tragedy the place represented. She would say a prayer that the clan would find their peace, and that remaining Uchiha would also find his.

She was never happy when she went back to her little cottage. But she managed. It was just one of her moments, and the next day she was different again. She would go about with her routine and she would say everything was fine.

She watched the fire on the stove as it licked the bottom of the kettle darkened through time. It had boiled longer than usual as the temperature of the room was too low. A loud knocking on the door suddenly filled the silence and stirred her back to her senses.

Hurriedly, she laid the cup on the counter and wrapped her arms around her to stay warm as she skidded across the hall to the door. It must be the kids who would always bring her chunks of wood for her fire. Or the old man who would always ask for her pain medications.

What she didn't know was that what awaited her would undo everything she had worked hard for.

"Please ma'am, let me stay for a night," the man pleaded, his head bowed and limbs curled to his stomach that was bleeding like an open faucet as he knelt in her front porch.

Of course she knew who it was. Despite his head bowed low, she would know that hair and that voice anywhere.

History had prevented her from having anything to do with him – much less utter a few words to him at that moment. However, human nature got ahead of her.

"Sasuke?"

The man instantly raised his head, surprised that someone still knew him. For years, he had wandered alone, and for years no one of any acquaintance was ever heard of again, or even met along the way.

"What are you still doing alive?"

"I could say the same thing to you," she scoffed, and was tempted to slam the door. Again, however, human nature got ahead of her. The scent and the sight of blood had triggered the medic instincts in her. "Can you still move?"

He didn't answer. But he struggled to stand and walk away from the door.

"Wait! Where are you going?" It was not her usual twelve-year-old "Wait, Sasuke-kun, don't go…" tone. It was the firm order of a respected doctor. "Could you at least come inside first, and let me tend to your wound."

He didn't budge, though. Pride and history dictated him to keep his distance and continue moving away.

"Stop being such a suck-up. Come inside. You can go after I stopped the bleeding." She knew, judging by his injury, that the more he travelled, the more he stayed in the cold, the more he stressed himself out, the smaller the chances of his survival.

"Hn." As much as he hated turning back and be indebted to her, he didn't have a choice. She walked past her porch and into the snow to help him in, not minding the numbing cold on her bare feet. Nor did he mind her closing in on his personal space, letting his weight sink on her so she can carry half of him.

_From here it begins… The one and only story about you.

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_**AN: **Title Reference: **Kimi Monogatari (The Story about You) **- Naruto Shippuuden 3rd Ending

Chapter Title: _Hajime_ - beginning

This would be a short story. I was just too tired to continue further, so I decided to make it a 2-chap fic instead.

Enjoy! And tell me what you think... :3


	2. Owari

**Owari

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**

She led him inside, and had him sit on the side of her couch. She didn't offer him tea, nor did she continue making one; as the boiling water was used to meticulously clean his wound and warm his feet.

Neither spoke. For neither would know what to say to each other. She didn't dare ask where he got the damage. He didn't bother asking her how she had been. But they reveled in the awkward silence rather than renewing the old bonds they used to have.

For time had made them both distant to broken acquaintances.

She applied herbs to keep away infection; he fought to hide a wince. She stitched the wound close; he continued looking out the window and about the room. And when he noticed that lone picture frame that decorated her house, he couldn't help but scorn at her.

"It's a pity that you still kept that." She looked up and followed his stare. Their untroubled faces captured in photograph, their lost youth narrated in that memorable picture, stirred familiar emotions. But she chose not to show it. Be stoic. Like the man who mocked her for never letting go of the past.

"Only because _he_ wanted me to."

He knew who she was talking about. His smirk only deepened. "Hn. What a shame. He had always been stupid. But I never thought he'd never grow up."

"If you say so," was all she could utter. It was painful, even after all the years she had practiced to feel and act indifferent when their childhood bonds were talked about. She, after all, still held a pinch of that bond even after she had changed addresses or grew older and presumably wiser.

But she had gotten used to the idea of him never going back to that familiar kid she had became partial to – so much more so on the idea that he no longer treasured their old times.

They fell silent again. But she gave him that alarmed look when the wind whistled past her window, and they both saw heavy snow raining outside.

"Don't worry, I'll go after you're done," shifting from the seat, ready to excuse himself out.

"Where will you go then?" she asked, having second thoughts whether to play the Good Samaritan on this poor, wounded man who saved her several times before and tried to kill her twice.

He didn't answer.

"J-just, it's fine, you can just stay here," she offered, hating herself for her oath and humanitarian resolve, and that hidden sympathy she always had for him.

He gave her a suspicious look that irritated her.

"I'm not asking you to stay because I want you to. I'm doing this because I'm a doctor and my conscience is driving me to do what's best for you."

He looked away.

She finished wrapping his abdomen with a few gauzes, went to her old cabinets and took out a blanket to keep him warm. She didn't have clothes for him, he'd just have to live with that blanket.

Warm tea still appealed to her so she prepared another kettle to boil, leaving him to wait for the water in the kitchen. It was another reason for her not to be in the same room with him.

And it suited him. He was somewhat grateful for her hospitality. Yet, he was still uncomfortable to be even speaking to her. The past hadn't been kind to them.

Although he no longer lived a dangerous life of a shinobi, given that he had no village to swear his alliances and loyalties to, he had lived in seclusion and continued living dangerously and alone because of ninjas trying to take him down because of his past grievances, and ninjas trying to get his Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan.

After the fourth Great Shinobi War, he had left everything behind. After all, he had avenged the clan: had killed his brother, had killed the elders without mercy, had been one of the accessories that led Konoha down to its knees during the war, had eventually defeated Madara in a battle that almost cost him his eyes and his life.

He had nothing to go back to. His past acquaintances were all blotched with blood and hatred. But despite him and Naruto fighting and vowing to kill each other, they weren't able to. Naruto was still trying so hard to get him back until the end. He, on the other had, only continued spitting on every word his best friend had spoken.

In the end, he delivered a fatal blow, of which Naruto had miraculously survived but forever suffered to. One could blame him for his death, as Naruto had gone weak after their legendary battle. But still, he had never failed the village when it came to the point where he needed to offer his life for its own survival.

Somehow, he was jealous of him. Naruto would always, always have something to live for. Now, going on with his life long past his own reason for living, he was stagnant. A driftwood. Living only for the sake of living.

Was she feeling the same? Living past her prime, with no one to share each day with? No one to listen to her ramblings on how stressful work was or how she wanted roast beef for dinner?

He shook his head to get those thoughts away. Instead, he glanced around to distract himself. He found her house rather bare. The walls were white, but a bit yellowish due to the damp and cold weather; the cabinets were few, but standard-looking without any adornments – except for penholders and that lousy picture. The coffee table was empty, no vases or runners like those that his mother was so fond of using. The sofa was even stiff, not that he was complaining. But this wasn't the kind of house that fitted her. The curtains were plain; he was guessing they were old ones from the hospital.

Definitely not the home where spring used to flourish.

Maybe she was no longer spring. She had been exposed to all evils and lived through various tragedies that spring was no longer her happy place. That no other seasons could be linked to her once glowing green eyes, sweet youthful smiles and her cherry-blossomed hair. Maybe even the pure white of winter could not even stand in contrast to the darkness her life had been.

What happened to her? Was being a kunoichi too much for her fragile soul to handle? Or was her heart incapable of letting go of all the lost friends piling up through time?

_Hn. Childish. This is a shinobi world._ The weak never had a chance to survive. She shouldn't have pursued it in the first place.

He was startled back to reality when he heard the two cups of tea clucking as they were laid on the table. Her sad face loomed into view, wrinkles slowly burying her eyes and the sides on her non-existent smile. It was then that he had realized that maybe she wasn't that weak to have been changed by the evil world of a shinobi. Maybe she was just too strong to be too happy and weak that her heart was able to build walls of steel and ice.

"Stop looking at me like that. It's safe. I didn't poison it." It wasn't until she raised one mean eyebrow did he become aware that he was staring back at her with an expression he himself couldn't pinpoint as it bordered from pity to unperceivable to despair.

"Well? Aren't you going to drink what was being offered?" she asked, somehow insulted with him neglecting her tea.

"Thank you," reaching out to get his cup.

Her eyes evidently glowed and filled her face, but her sudden shock and confusion was hidden away in a blink. It wasn't because of the history those words of gratitude entailed that brought out such reactions from her, but because of the raw sincerity and humility in his voice that everything she had thought of him after their evil meetings were all questioned.

Was it ever possible that after all these years, after everything he had done, after all those bitter and sad and angry words exchanged, that little boy with a warm heart still existed?

No. It wasn't. He was tainted – with everything malevolent from blood to soul.

But his eyes! His dark eyes were still as beautiful as she could remember. His lashes shadowed them and created an effect of both torn and wistful – but beautiful still that they once wanted her to take care of him. And now, those pair of charcoal was reminiscent of old days, no longer held a dark malice that had stared back at her with unadulterated hate and murder.

Then again, should he bring forth that Eternal Sharingan he was known for, would he scare her? Or protect her like he had done once upon a time? Or would he be able to see through her and know that she was as lonely as he had been?

What's the point of all these again, she questioned. Time had been the greatest barrier. Him sitting in her living room and sipping her tea would and could never get all those old times back. Would and could never regress from all those desires to kill one another in the battlefield.

Naruto was wrong. He was but a child when he died believing this man was still worthy of a little redemption.

"So, what are you doing with your life now?" She started, her thoughts made her ask it with detest.

It was rather a straightforward question that it was rude to have it asked. But they were neither strangers to each other. But they were neither friends, too. No longer friends, much less teammates.

"I travel," he surprisingly answered, in a surprisingly polite manner.

"Travelling. I see. What? Are you searching for something?"

"No." Travelling alone, travelling without any destination in particular. Was that what the infamous Uchiha survivor's life had become? He was so full of purpose back then. He drove to the edge of sanity all in the fulfillment of his one goal to restore the name of the prestigious Uchiha clan, and to bestow dark justice by his own hands upon those who had wronged the clan.

To live life alone, that was his fate after all.

And it suddenly broke her heart knowing he would still be alone even after carrying everything through.

"It won't bring anyone happiness, not even you, Sasuke," she whispered, remembering a certain conversation long way back. She was too caught up in her own thoughts that she didn't notice that her words were audible enough and made him clench his jaws.

"Why'd you leave Konoha?" he added in to the conversation.

"It's a personal choice."

It didn't bother them both that they had fallen silent again. It was not awkward to just sit there and listen to the storm outside. If anything, it was even gratifying. For them both. To somehow learn that at least an old friend was still alive. However, they both know that living through time alone was never gratifying. But they chose not to think too much about it. They had their own lonely lives to think about.

She leaned on her stiff sofa after finishing her tea, and rested her head on the back rest. Her ceiling was dusty, but it was nice to look at. Calming. A crack lining from the yellowish light bulb, cobwebs dangling from everywhere, ants marching softly from the little hole they drilled on the edge. If only it was easy to just sweep everything off, she would have done it. But her hands were too short to reach it.

"How are you, Sasuke?" she asked, almost mumbling. She didn't expect him to answer, but he did.

"Wounded."

She snickered. "I've already taken care of that."

"Aa."

Dust. Too many dusts. If she delighted in the dust, would it be the same with making snow angels with her hands on winter?

He watched her at the corner of his eyes. Watching her stare into space was somehow, calming. She was still as beautiful as he could remember. But her beauty was a manifestation of all the things she had lost, and all the things she had to live without. She was no longer that little twelve-year-old who clapped her hands when the blossoms danced to the ground, or who blushed in every little thing that made her feel light.

She was a beautiful disillusioned woman, whose eyes were green with awful truth and sad realities. He had been the same; however, he was forced to grow an adult life at seven. Yet, somehow, it saddened him to see her lose that childish enthusiasm she was known for – no matter how old she may be.

"Ironic. But I'm quite glad you're still okay," she said.

"Aa. Me too," he answered unknowingly, but he meant what he said. Her head moved to face him, confused at what he just said.

What was with this man? He tried to kill her twice. His eyes were grim. He tried to kill his teacher, their teacher. He almost killed his best friend. He brought devastation to her village, and to the Shinobi world.

But he said his word with disturbing tenderness.

Did time tame him? Was he finally free of the hatred that spawned in his heart and very soul? Again, his eyes were beautiful, and wise.

"I'll go cook dinner." She exited the room. She needed to stay away. She was no longer used to this other side of him – that side she had known him for, that used to dwell in that little brooding boy. His gentleness back then was hidden in a façade of hate, but still there nonetheless.

And his gentleness now crushed her heart that no anger ever could.

Maybe Naruto was right in believing in him?

And maybe she was wrong in losing her faith in him.

And maybe it's time to finally forgive him? Let go and let live?

She served dinner as soon as she finished cooking. Braised beef and blanched vegetables from her neighbor's garden. They ate in silence, against the strong wind and heavy snow outside.

He helped with the dishes, but she strongly opposed it as he might tire himself out; but he stubbornly insisted. She gave him more blankets and pillows to keep him comfortable in the sofa, and then offered wood to the dying fire.

He watched her, behind thick lashes and sullen bangs. He watched her with curiosity and pity, and a strange responsibility of getting that little girl back – for her sake and for the sake of this world who came short of one vernal soul.

"Go rest, Sakura." At first she didn't budge, but later, her mind told her that he was talking to her. It had been ages since someone called her by her first name. She was Haruno-san now. And it felt weird to hear her name again. To have someone call her name again, to drop any honorifics to sound polite.

The fire flickered as the wood crackled under the heat. She stared at the red flame. How ironic it was that the first visitor she would have in her new home, after years of living in it, would be Uchiha Sasuke? And how odd it felt to have him say her name again?

She stared at the red flame, wanting so much to consume it to fill the coldness exuding from her small figure. Tears gathered around her dry eyes, reacquainting with those sapphire orbs that had stopped knowing how to cry. She dropped the fireplace rod she was holding.

"Bare," she whispered. Bare! Her life was a barren wasteland! And wasn't it unfair? She had done the right things in every thing most of her life. She had been a top student, a good team mate, a prized apprentice. She had been there for her best friend, for her friends, for every body else. She had saved lives every day! Let go of a tainted love she knew wasn't going anywhere.

She had done all the right things! But why did it feel so bare? Empty? After every thing, she was all alone.

"Were you contented, Sasuke?"

"No." She jumped at his answer, not expecting he had heard what she said. She was surprised even, when he touched her shoulder and held her forearm to pull her up.

"You never stopped crying, do you?" he said, and he stared deep into those green eyes that only looked radiant because of the fire.

"I, I'm sorry. Th-there's, the smoke got into my eyes." Her free hand moved up to wipe her tears; but the more she wiped, the more came out. The more she sobbed.

He had seen her cry a thousand times before, and each time, he never knew what to do. Instinctively, he pulled her close, and let her head rest upon his chest. He let her cry onto him.

She clutched at his shirt. He no longer wore his old Sound uniform or the Akatsuki robe. He had left them all behind. He was only dressed in a white cotton shirt, and a light sweater, and black loose pants. Easy for travelling. But he also never wore his clan's emblem anymore.

He left them all behind.

He noticed that their height proportion never changed. Of course, they had grown taller, but she still stood just below his shoulders, that if he would, his chin could perfectly rest on her head. Could easily take in the scent of her hair.

She never stopped crying, though. So he moved his hands down and took hold of her fingers, intertwining it with his. She gripped as her sobs grew louder. He didn't grip back; he didn't know how to respond. He just allowed her to clasp harder until his fingers turned numb.

His chest was wet with her tears, but despite that, he felt warm. And he never felt so warm before, and he never had held another human being as close as he held her now.

And he felt warm.

And he wanted to fix her.

For he longed for that cheery smile pasted back on her soft lips again, and that lively eyes dance with the cherry blossoms of spring. But was he enough to do it? Was he worthy to be the one who'd to that for her?

He didn't know. But she held on to him like she needed him too much. Though, was she even aware that he was Uchiha Sasuke? The one she had learned to despise through the years of constant hate?

Because in truth, he realized just now that he needed her as much as he wanted to admit.

_Visits from the other side of this door, it begins. A long, long story about you.

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_**AN**: I didn't know I'd be updating this so soon! XD Like what I have said in my Profile Page, this won't be the last chapter. One more chapter, I think. But I guarantee lemons next *sweatdrop* Hopefully, well-written... hahaha!

Thanks for those who read this fic, reviewed it, faved and added it to their alerts. Thank you for your time, and for making me smile with your reviews. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, too. It made me sad, really sad. But I hope you like it.

Chapter Title: _Owari _- End in

Title Reference: **Kimi Monogatari (The Story about You) **- Naruto Shippuuden 3rd Ending (last sentence is a line from said song)

Standard disclaimer applies! Enjoy! :3


	3. Watashitachi no Monogatari

**Watashi-tachi no Monogatari

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**

It was her scent.

Her strawberry hair and that distinct sweet whiff of honey as the wind passed through her that made Uchiha Sasuke lose his usual stance and comfortably rest his chin on the top of her head.

It was her scent still. That strawberry goodness, that made him remember childhood breakfasts and long afternoon naps, enveloped him like the immediate air his lungs needed. And slowly, it enchanted him. And heedlessly his head moved so that his lips were kissing her silky pink hair.

It tickled him. And he could almost taste her; it's drawing him deeper into a trance. That moment, he didn't care; he knew he wanted her as true as the snow was white outside her bland window.

In frustration, his free hand travelled up her nape to lock her in, his lips riddling from her head to her soul. And everything fell into place.

For she stopped sobbing as soon as his gentleness was realized. She didn't understand what was he was doing. But to have him hold her hand right in that moment made her open up her heart so painstakingly, yet still as readily as a little girl to the promise of young love.

This was the man whom she had harbored hatred to. The very man who had tried to take her life twice. And yet the only man she had loved too much that she was prepared to have the burden of killing only to stop him from sinking deeper into the path of darkness.

She had made that resolve a long, long time ago. But after she had witnessed the dark circles around his eyes as he laughed that scary, maniacal laugh, she knew she was too late. And she had just stopped caring.

But today, he was caring for her.

And it was enough for her to hold his hand back and held on to him for support.

It was his lips, as icy as death, that emanated warmth from the depths of her heart. It was those lips that suddenly unearthed those cobwebbed hopes she had exhumed a thousand times before. And his hand, as deadly as the talons of a hawk, at the back of her neck made her jump up and clutch at the obstructive cloth covering his chest.

His other hand, which was holding hers, went to touch her face, never letting go of her gentle fingers. He pressed his lips on her head more forcefully, taking in more of her scent, more of her soul.

And she filled him with longing and vague joy that kept him in a sudden high.

This moment, everything was forgotten. She wasn't Haruno Sakura, the disillusioned woman who once had viewed the world with innocence and everything nice. He wasn't Uchiha Sasuke, the international criminal who once had brought evil to the world all in the fulfillment of his revenge.

Instead, they were two wandering creatures, vulnerable to time and emptiness a lone path could bring. Two nameless creatures only acquainted by past relations and separated by history and cruel circumstances. Both fated to meet again, trying to heal their own hearts with nothing more than intertwined fingers and subtle kisses.

"Sasuke… kun…" she barely whispered, as she turned to kiss the palm that melted her skin to cotton. And this was sinful as it was celestial. She cursed her heart for having been undone in just a few gestures.

Persephone.

She was the innocent maiden who tasted pomegranates of the Underworld. She was that innocent maiden who had liked and loved the feel of the darkness. She was the goddess who came back to search for herself anew and returned to spring with the people who mattered. But in the end, it was the Underworld she would always go back to.

For her heart had tasted pomegranates and desired it.

It was an invitation. Yet something sensible suddenly passed his mind, warning him that things might escalate to something irreversible. That it might be something they would both regret, given that history was complicated, and forgiveness wasn't easily given away like candies.

But if tomorrow would lead them apart again, would tonight be a reminder that at one point in time they were able to put away their differences to heal?

The butterflies on his palm were sensual. The softness of her skin was delightful.

It was an invitation.

And he cupped her cheeks with that palm tendered with her kisses. His other hand slid from her nape to her chin, pulling her face up to face him.

And then, he kissed her.

And first there was doubt. He had never been with a woman before. In fact, he had never really been this intimate with any human being. And he didn't plan to start now. But something about her, about this atmosphere, about him, told him to just be gentle, and let go.

And then there was hesitation. He just planted his lips on hers like it was the proper way of doing it, like a twelve-year-old stealing his first kiss. Yet tingles came after. And next was curiosity. Of how she would react when he traced her collarbone with his fingers, or if she'd push him away should he bury his face on her pink hair.

It was an interplay of emotions. But in the end, as she moved her lips to dance with his, there was total submission.

His teeth bit soft muscles, his tongue felt soft skin. She still tasted like green tea they had for dinner, bitter yet soothing. It made it felt like all the bitterness in her life was being breathed out into him.

He, in turn, was ready to take it all in…

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, pulling him down. He obeyed, bending his body to meet hers. And, she had better access on his hair. Her fingers played with every dark strands, every root that were once bathed in that distinct scent of death, of blood, of dirt. And yet, she combed them to purify with her hands, and pulled them in every surge of passion.

How do you fix a disenchanted woman, back to being that cheery child he had once known her for? Was this how? Exchanges of kisses that they both knew didn't cross the lines of love? Only kisses brought about by mere circumstances and painful loneliness?

Would they both transcend the cruel hands of time, should they carry on with this lustful activity? Or would it just be another night of their lives?

He didn't care, though. As he nibbled the sweet cartilage of her ears, and she sorely scratched her fingers on his scar-filled back, he didn't care. Yet he wanted more than just the taste of her skin, of the melting of her body as it arched to touch his. He wanted her soul, and he wanted her to pour it all out for him.

However, he didn't understand why he would want that, what he would do if she had given him her soul. Would he keep it between the palms of his hands? Or would he give it back, in missing pieces, after he had taken in the scent of it? Would she, in the first place, hand it over that easily?

Did she still have her soul with her? Or did he have to look for it?

Would she be looking for his, in return?

His hands roamed about her, as if searching. He didn't know if he was searching in the right places, but she seemed pleased. Her hand had touched him, too, as if silk threads weaving him, bit by bit, tearing him to locks and instantaneously taking him whole completing an intricate pattern of wonderful embroidery.

The fire she had earlier built had caught up with them, unable to distinguish whether the sweat was from their nearness to the burning wood, or due to the heated moment.

Somehow, they had managed to find their way to her room. But neither of them had noticed the difference. Sure, the winter atmosphere had frozen her bedroom, but neither of them had chilled from the change of gradient. Their bodies had only felt warm skin, and their eyes had only seen flushed cheeks.

They blended into the cheap covers of her bed and melted into the stiff mattresses. But they both never stopped wandering. His lips had traveled to her toes, and her toes had found his nape. Their fingers had locked a hundred times, and their hair had appeared like colored sand of black and pink mixed and spread out in an ocean of fiery fervor.

To say that she had never felt like this before was a cheap cliché and an understatement. This wasn't her first time. In the world of shinobi, she had experienced every training and strategy that could strip innocence off a child, physically and mentally. When she was eighteen, she was assigned in a team who needed to stop the transport of human slaves and young prostitutes. Their plan was working perfectly, until it backfired and she had to sacrifice a part of her to complete this important mission – despite the opposition of her team mates.

After Sasuke, she had also fallen in love once. It was to Sai that she had decided to offer her life to and to spend the rest of her life with – much to Naruto's surprise and loud disapproval. Of course, Naruto, having known both of them most of his life, had eventually accepted the fact that probably Sai would be her key to happiness and that she would be Sai's key to love. They were about to wed, when Sai was killed in battle. A part of her had died with him.

She had lived a promiscuous life after that, unable to deal with another heartbreak. One man to another, only to keep her sane and forget the pain in every climax she received. Her best friend Yamanaka Ino and Naruto had talked her out of it, and taken her back to heal in a smoother process.

But as she had reached her limit and build her desire again and again, she questioned herself if tonight would just be another bout of promiscuity, a hidden desire brought about by her old fantasies of having Uchiha Sasuke comfort her and sleep with her. She didn't really have an answer to that.

"Sakura…" he whimpered in the midst of their rapid and random lovemaking. He whimpered, and her knees gave way. And in an instant, their bodies had once again molded to one magnificent sculpture of pain and elation and pure covetousness.

And she had never felt this way before.

Tonight, she didn't give herself away out of love. She knew that much. But she was willing to have him in her bed every night, if it meant this much bliss. However, inasmuch as she wanted to contain that desire, and to bury that unknown familiar feeling, the way he cried out her name stirred everything back to life.

Those cobwebbed hopes had dusted themselves out in the open. A sliver of the arrow had made itself visible and wholly made its way to her heart. It scared her, as true as his kisses melted every snow.

She went to sleep with her head resting on his chest, lulled by his excited heartbeat and rapid breathing, and with his hand wrapped around her bare shoulders. She went to sleep while tracing circles in his chest, eliciting reactions from him. She went to sleep knowing that if he would ask, she would once again be willing to give her heart away. And if he wouldn't, she wouldn't openly give it, but her heart would once again bury its way to the deep caverns of her soul her heart had known by heart.

* * *

She had gone to sleep, but he couldn't shut his eyes without opening them again after a second or two. He decided to give up on it. So instead, his eyes wandered across the room, and outside the window, and on her face down to her belly button exposed from the blanket covering her.

So many things kept bothering him. Things he decided to push aside whilst driven by passion earlier. His wound was still aching a bit, but he never really noticed until now. Judging from tonight, however, he could move now, and even start traveling without having to worry of internal bleeding or opening the wound.

She had done a good job healing him. Though, still, he wondered if he should let her continue doing so.

His eyes darted to the sleeping figure beside him again, and he stared at her until dawn. All of a sudden, he gently pushed her hand away, and moved her so that she was lying on her back.

He hovered over her and planted kisses on her hair, to her forehead, all over her face, a long one on the lips, and down to her abdomen, very, very careful not to wake her up.

Once satisfied, he pulled the blanket over her chin, and combed pieces of her hair away from her face.

And then, he got out of the bed in search for his clothes.

* * *

She woke up with the events of last night still reeling in her dreams. She then realized that the warm body her skin had grown accustomed to was only imagined.

She was all alone.

He was not in her bed, on her sofa, in the kitchen, nor was he showering in her bathroom.

He was nowhere to be seen, and left no trace at all.

She even doubted if she had just dreamt everything, from his knocking on her door to the passionate events before she slept. Was he just a product of her recently idle mind?

Or did he go away – yet again?

But then again, last night felt surreal! Sasuke kissing her the way he did was way beyond her imaginations. On the other hand, her body wouldn't just have imagined all of those, right?

It didn't matter now, though. He's gone. She didn't know what last night meant to him, but for her, it would mean crawling back to emptiness.

However, it wouldn't be difficult. She had been doing that for years and years. One night of passion couldn't undo everything, could it?

Yes. Definitely not.

So she went to her kitchen, after cleansing her face, to boil water for her tea; and she stood there with the cup on her hand, waiting for the kettle to whistle.

* * *

She was back to her own self after a week. That one night with Sasuke was almost a breath away from being a cruel genjutsu she had learned to dispel.

The days went by with her drowning herself with work. That's how she earned her way to medic books, anyway. Sheer hard work and a little talent of perfect chakra concentration.

Dinner would be skipped, she decided, and it'd be best to just head to bed. Maybe after a warm bath to calm her down first.

She was filling her tub with water when she heard knocks on the door. She hurriedly closed the faucet and poured lavender oil on the tub. The knocks came louder and sounded more urgent.

"I'm coming, I'm coming! Jeez!" She shouted.

She had no idea who that was, but she prayed that it wouldn't be about the critical patient she had worked so hard all week to keep alive.

What she didn't know, though, was what awaited her behind that door would once again undo what she had worked so hard for all week.

She yanked the door open, irritation on her face. Surprise instantly replaced her annoyance as she saw Uchiha Sasuke standing on her porch, same clothes as she last saw him, only dirtier, with a bundle of firewood on one hand and a dead dear hanging on his shoulder. His hear was damp with snow and it clung down to his handsome face.

"Sasuke?" she idiotically asked, as if seeing him for the first time in ages.

"Aa. I brought wood for the fire and meat for dinner," he said, as if standing outside her house, with freshly dead deer was the most normal thing in the world.

Bewildered, she blinked twice and suddenly laughed so hard at the stupidity of the situation.

"Sasuke, you dumb-ass, people don't hunt deer for food anymore. They actually sell meat in the market," she taunted, side-stepping to let him in.

"Hn. You're annoying, Sakura."

_Among the dry winds_  
_We'll become a spring that never dries_  
_From here it begins_  
_The one and only story about you_

* * *

**A/N:** *nosebleeding!* I hope Sasuke had brought flowers instead of deer carcass, ne! Sasuke no baka!

Ok, that's all the lemons I can give you. I'm sorry if it's a bit short of a lemon, but the rating's a T. I hope you had somehow enjoyed this fic!

Thanks for everyone who gave their reviews, I love them! and for those who faved this fic... This is the first serial fic I have ever finished, and I'm kinda proud of it... XD And I'm happy for making this fic a happy ending! Thanks everyone!

Oh, and Sasuke and Sakura are both around their 40's. I hope that doesn't put some of you off... You might not be into geriatric love affairs. hehe... :3

Thanks again! It's been fun!

_Watashi-tachi no Monogatari_ - The Story About Us


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